


Rumors

by FakePlastikTrees



Category: Damages
Genre: F/F, Ficlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-28
Updated: 2013-07-28
Packaged: 2017-12-21 14:38:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/901448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FakePlastikTrees/pseuds/FakePlastikTrees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ellen asks Patty about certain rumors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rumors

“Your doorman thinks we’re sleeping together.”

She looks up at you with that glazed, inebriated look she’s sported for going on an hour now, and she smiles.

“What?”

You push yourself off the backrest of her couch. It takes some maneuvering, possibly because you too are a bit drunk but you think it’s mostly because the damned couch reclines so far back it’s like you’re in a cocoon. Although, you’re willing to accept that it could just be that you’re drunk.

“Whoa--” The decanter is further away than you remember and you almost spill bourbon on Patty’s carpet, your eyesight betraying you but you get it in the glass with little trouble. You’re beginning to lick your lips, nibbling them a lot and that’s a crystal clear sign that you’ve indeed had too much to drink. It’s still not as much as Patty’s had so you give yourself an imaginary pat on the back and sip your fresh serving.

You clear your throat and cross your legs as you sit back again, startled at just how far back the couch goes.

“Did he say that?” She asks, suddenly perturbed by the invisible fuzz on her pants, which she picks at persistently.

If you weren’t drunk you’d think she was nervous.

“Yes. Coming up here, he wished ‘us’ a happy Valentine’s Day and asked me if he should hold off all visitors.”

Patty’s eyes widen and she appears genuinely shocked. “He did not!”

“He did. It’s an honest mistake, I suppose. I mean, it’s Valentine’s night and I walk in here with a bottle of wine…” You wonder when it was you two finished that because you don’t remember.

“Is it Valentine’s Day? I hadn’t noticed.” She’s definitely nervous.

She tilts her glass back against her lips and blushes when she notes there’s nothing there. Without looking at you once, she reaches for the bourbon and serves herself a refill with a lot more finesse than you, but still, she’s avoiding any and all eye contact. It’s adorable.

It’s late enough and you’re both drunk enough to laugh it off if it backfires, so you fortify yourself with a large gulp of amber liquid that no longer burns, and really, that should worry you.

“It’s not really a farfetched assumption when you think about it,” you say as she fidgets in her seat, still avoiding looking at you, but she hasn’t kicked you out yet so it can’t be all that bad, “In fact, when I first started at Hewes & Associates, I was warned that half of your female Associates had left imprints of their knees on your office carpet.”

She blushes, her cheeks burning red as she laughs a little too loudly and flips her hair back with her hand, shaking her head, incredulous.

Score.

“That is absolutely--ridiculous.”

“Is it?”

“Ellen,” she says, glaring at you now, but shying away almost instantly, “People love gossip, that’s all.”

Making Patty Hewes nervous is NOT overrated. You hope you remember this later. With a side smirk that you don’t feel, you shrug your shoulders and sigh dramatically, “That’s disappointing.”

You glance her way out the corner of your eye to see if you’ve gotten a satisfying reaction. She all but squirms in her seat, readjusting herself , lifting her glass to her lips only to pull it back without even taking a sip.

Satisfying. It most definitely is.

“People have never asked you about Tom?”

“They wouldn’t dare.”

“Have they asked you about me?”

She shakes her head, not saying no, but simply--buying herself time. She touches her hand to her neck, tapping her fingers against the freckled skin before looking over at you, her eyes smiling, her lips in a tight smirk.

A wave of energy surges through you at that and for the first time since you’ve known the woman, you allow yourself to feel the full effect of it.

“People talk, Ellen.”

“What do they say?”

“Ellen…”

You’re standing now, moving onto the couch across you, where she’s been sitting this evening, you hadn’t realized until now just how much distance you place between the two of you. You sit next to her now, your glass on the coffee table and out of the way before you face her and smile invitingly. She breathes in deeply, her chest rising and falling slowly with every inhale and exhale. Your skin is beginning to tingle.

“Do they ask you if I’m good in bed?”

Her lips part and you inch closer until you can smell the alcohol in her breath.

“Ellen--” she warns you again, her voice soft, almost a whisper, possibly a plea.

Damn it, it’s exhilarating the way she seems to grow smaller the closer you get to her.

“Don’t you want to find out?”

Her tongue darts out and wets her lips. She attempts to speak but only a sigh escapes her and you hum as you scoot a little closer, your hand on her knee and moving up her outer thigh.

Her breath is shaky, and you think you detect a shiver but she isn’t talking. You can tell she wants to say something, she’s doing everything in her power to push back the effect you have on her but she’s flustered and she’s helplessly immobile.

The realization makes you giggle and your voice sounds a lot throatier than you’ve ever hear it. You like it. ‘She’ likes it.

“Ellen?”

You touch her hair now, you push it behind her ear.

“Hmm?”

“You’re drunk.”

“So are you,” you say, congratulating yourself for the quick comeback, the way you’re body’s humming with anticipation it’s a miracle you can speak at all. You press your lips to hers, lightly, feather light. She moans, but she didn’t mean to. She’s bashful at her reaction, but you remain close, your thumb drawing lazy circles behind her ear as you cradle her neck, making sure to hold her there. “You can blame it on that in the morning if you’d like.”

She kisses you back this time and soon enough, you find yourself unbuttoning her shirt. You didn’t know a minute ago that’s what you wanted but the way she’s so soft and compliant helps reassure you.

You didn’t know--until she dug her fingernails into your shoulder and arched her back, screaming your name--that fucking a woman would be something you liked. You didn’t even know you’d be particularly good at it. But you are and you like being good at things, so you give it a shot a couple more times until Patty is sweaty and muffling her cries with both hands over her face the third time.

You also didn’t know, that Patty would be so eager to lick you into a couple screaming orgasms of your own, though you doubted she’d be bad at that.

It’s early morning when you leave. Your hair is a mess, your shirt is ripped at the sleeve a little and Patty’s nosey doorman gives you a quizzical look.

“You all right, Ms. Parsons?”

You turn your smile in his direction and say, “Oh, yeah, thank you, I’m great.”

Well, at least they won’t be rumors anymore.


End file.
